


Flying Free

by Sixthlight



Series: Old Guard Pern AU [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pern Fusion, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Consent, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Minor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman Needs a Hug, Trauma, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixthlight/pseuds/Sixthlight
Summary: “Calm down,” said Andromache. “This is a social visit. We’re both Weyrwomen here now; we should try to be friends. I was going to bring Quỳnh too, but she thought that might be a bit much.”
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nile Freeman
Series: Old Guard Pern AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942555
Comments: 32
Kudos: 204





	Flying Free

**Author's Note:**

> Additional content warning, just to spell it out: if you know Pern you know that it comes with Consent Issues Like Whoa and a boatload of implied sexual assault. This fic directly addresses the potential impact of that on a queer woman who grew up in that system, in terms of her fears for her future.

“Nile?” came a voice from the front of her weyr. Nile hiccuped and cuddled closer into her sleeping dragon. Linoth was growing so fast Nile felt she could almost see her doing it as she slept; that was all she did, more or less, sleep and eat and tell Nile how much she liked her. Quỳnh, the junior Weyrwoman here before Nile had Impressed Linoth and become the most junior, told her that this stage would pass much more quickly than she expected. But then, that was what Nile was worried about.

“Nile?” the voice said again, and she realised it was Andromache, the Weyrwoman. She couldn’t ignore her, as much as she wanted to. She wiped frantically at her eyes and stood up. Linoth shifted restlessly, but didn’t wake.

“Here!” she called, and made her way to the front of her weyr. “I’m here. Sorry – I was just resting my eyes.”

“Oh, I remember that stage,” Andromache chuckled. She was a tall, lean woman, maybe ten years older than Nile, her dark hair cut short, dressed right now in her flying leathers. “I just wanted to talk for a bit, if you don’t need the nap too badly. See how you’re doing.”

“Oh,” said Nile, who couldn’t imagine the senior Weyrwoman at Benden Weyr, where she’d been raised, making time for the most junior like this. But then she hadn’t been a rider at Benden; maybe she would have seen a different side of her, if she had. “That’s – uh, it’s good. I’m doing good. Pretty much not doing anything except feeding Linoth and sleeping, right now, but that’s what I expected.” She shuffled. “Not that I actually expected to Impress a queen, but now I’m here I promise I’ll do my best –”

“Calm down,” said Andromache. “This is a social visit. We’re both Weyrwomen here now; we should try to be friends. I was going to bring Quỳnh too, but she thought that might be a bit much.”

“Quỳnh’s been very kind to me,” said Nile. “Can I – would you like some klah?”

“I’d love it,” Andromache said gently, so Nile took her into her human-sized quarters and made klah and hoped the tear-tracks on her face had dried enough to not be visible. She was supposed to be happy, now. She was supposed to be the happiest she would ever be in her life. She was; she was; she loved Linoth beyond words and reason; it was just…the future.

“Things are a bit more formal at Benden, then,” Andromache said, when Nile sat. “From the way you’re acting. I guess I knew that, and I saw it with N’colo when he came here from High Reaches, until we got him to relax, but it’s another thing to see it with you.”

“I know my duty,” Nile said. “It’s just that – I was supposed to be too old, and, and other things. They only sent me here for the Hatching because, well…it’s Ista.”

“Oh, I know what they all think about Ista.” Andromache chuckled. “Forget all of it.”

Nile smiled, nervously; she wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

“Speaking of N’colo,” Andromache went on. Nile’s shoulders tensed; she couldn’t stop it. “There it is. He and S’bastien say you’ve been avoiding them. They’ve barely managed to say hello. I know how bronze riders can be, other Weyrs, but I promise, they’re both the best men you could meet. And in the very unlikely event either of them says so much as a _word_ out of line I’ll have Scythiath dangle them over the edge of –”

“I don’t want them,” Nile blurted out, clutching her mug. “I don’t want them, I don’t, I don’t want _men_ , and I don’t want to think about it or see them or – it won’t be for years. Can’t they leave me alone until then?”

“You don’t have to want them. That’s the dragons’ business.” Andromache snorted. “Quỳnh and I certainly don’t, and I promise the feeling is mutual.”

“But I’ll have to…” Nile put a hand over her mouth, feeling the bile rise. She knew what mating flights entailed, she was Weyr-raised, she’d known her whole life. It was just being confronted with two men, two real, breathing bronze riders who one day would – would – she’d have to, she’d really have to –

“Breathe,” Andromache said, and Nile realised the Weyrwoman was holding her gently by the shoulders. “Breathe. It’s okay. I didn’t realise – it’s going to be _fine,_ Nile. You don’t have to lay a finger on either of them, ever, and they won’t on you. We’ll keep you safe. I _promise_.”

“ _How_?” Nile said. Sobbed. “Linoth will rise one day and then –”

“Look at me,” Andromache said, compelling, and she had to. “Look at me. When Linoth rises, you go off with – whoever you want to, or nobody at all if you don’t, and I’ll stand guard myself. And they’ll go off to their people, or nobody, and the dragons will do what they do, and, you know, it’s a pretty good time, if you’re with someone you want, for yourself. I can recommend it.”

“That’s not how they do things at Benden,” Nile said, still half-hysterical. “Or anywhere else.”

“You’re not at Benden. You’re the newest junior Weyrwoman at Ista, and that’s how we do things here.” Nile looked into Andromache’s kind eyes and remembered that Andromache wasn’t Weyr-raised; that she’d been Holdless, the story went, not even supposed to be at Ista the day of the Hatching, and astonished everybody by Impressing the queen. Quỳnh wasn’t Weyr-raised either; she was from a small fishing Hold in Nerat.

That was, everybody had told her at Benden, why Ista was…different. Ill-disciplined. Too casual for their own good. It would be Nile’s job to take one of the two bronze riders in hand and lead the Weyr when Thread started falling in ten years, in the very unlikely event that she Impressed the queen hatchling, which of course she probably wouldn’t. They had told her. She’d promised to do her best. Her duty.

Now Andromache was promising her that all her worst fears didn’t have to come true, and Nile didn’t know what she was supposed to do. “Do you _promise_?”

“On my dragon’s life,” Andromache said, solemnly, and took Nile in her arms as Nile burst into tears again – not of terror, but of relief.

When she’d finished crying herself out, Andromache went and got her a pitcher of water and a cloth, and she washed her face, feeling silly but also much more at peace.

“Thank you,” she said. “I know you have better things to do with your time than manage junior riders.”

“I really, really don’t,” said Andromache. “You’re one of us now.”

“So, uh,” Nile said, taking a sip of her klah – it was still lukewarm. “Who do you – you don’t have to tell me – but is there anyone you…spend your mating flights with? If it’s not N’colo or S’bastien. Or I suppose – I don’t know all the brown riders yet.”

“Thread will fall upwards into the sky before it’s either of them, or any of our many fine brown riders,” Andromache said, grinning. “No, it’s Quỳnh.”

Nile jerked, nearly spilling her drink. “But other queens can’t stay at the Weyr when –”

“Her dragon can’t. She certainly can. Same for me when Ngoth rises.”

Nile was too dark to blush, but she felt her ears heating. She’d had friends – weyrmates – among the other Weyr-raised girls at Benden, but now she was a queen rider she hadn’t – everybody said that women who spent their time with other women couldn’t Impress queens. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t expected this, Linoth, any of it.

“Oh,” she realised. “You said you’d stand guard for me if I wanted. Is that how?”

Andromache shrugged. “Yes. I send Scythiath off, I make sure you’re where you want to be.” She grinned again. “I wouldn’t say no if you invited me in.”

Nile’s ears felt like they were on fire; she ducked her head. Andromache grimaced. “Sorry; that wasn’t fair, especially when Linoth’s this young. Do me a favour and forget I said it.”

“No, no, it’s…” Nile looked up through her lashes. “I thought you just said you and Quỳnh…”

“Yes.” Andromache caught her gaze, and looked thoughtful. “She wouldn’t say no either. Or there’s plenty of women here who wouldn’t. Or like I said; nobody at all. Your dragon decides for herself, and you decide for you.”

“I…will remember that,” Nile said, taking another hasty gulp of her drink, feeling the senior Weyrwoman’s gaze on her and – for the first time since she’d woken up as a queen rider – feeling secure in her own skin. Good, even. Like she had…choices.

“Okay, then.” Andromache stood up. “Come and eat lunch in the main hall today, get to know some people. Everybody here’s really curious about you. You’re our new queen rider; they all want to make you feel welcome.”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Andromache winked. “Like _that_ might just be me.” Then she left.

*

Linoth woke up right after that and it was another round of feeding and grooming and cuddling and telling her how wonderful she was, none of which Nile minded even a little bit, because Linoth was positively the most wonderful dragon on the whole of Pern, and they basked in their mutual adoration. Then she did as her senior Weyrwoman had said and went to the main part of the Weyr for her lunch. It was bustling; at Benden a lot of riders ate in their own Weyrs. Here people liked to talk, apparently.

She looked around for Y’suf, the Harper who had surprised everybody by Impressing a brown dragon at the same Hatching as her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead S’bastien waved her over to his table. He was seated with three Weyrlings; she gulped, and reminded herself of what Andromache had told her, and went to join them.

“Nile!” he said warmly. “Good to see you here. I remember how it was, those first few weeks, nothing but feeding and scrubbing and sleeping. Have you met my boys yet?”

“Uh, no,” said Nile, who was used to how it was at Benden, where riders might acknowledge children or they might not. S’bastien proudly introduced her to Bastiano, Luc, and Jeanpierre, who all had his blue eyes and nose and smile. They were all too young to have been candidates at the Hatching, the oldest ten.

“You’ll never make a rider with a name like that,” Nile teased Luc; he giggled. “How will we make it shorter?”

“We’ll manage somehow,” S’bastien said fondly. “Ada! Are you joining us?”

The headwoman came over and kissed S’bastien on the cheek; Nile realised that she must be where the boys got their dark skin, nearly as dark as Nile’s. S’bastien had a rider’s tan, but he was naturally pale, you could see it where his goggles protected the skin around his eyes.

“No,” said Ada. “There’s been a mix-up with deliveries from Ista Hold. Don’t ask. I hope you’re all eating your food, boys.”

“Yes, mama,” they all sighed. Ada turned to Nile. “Nile! It’s so good to see you here. We like to eat together at this Weyr. I hope you’ll join us more often.”

“I’m going to try,” said Nile. “It’s – it’s very nice here. You should be proud.”

“We are,” Ada said, beaming; that had apparently been exactly the right thing to hear. “Glad to hear we live up to _some_ of Benden’s standards.” She bustled away again.

“Does N’colo usually eat here as well?” Nile asked. Andromache was right; S’bastien was a kind man, and she could see why he wouldn’t have any interest in her, with such a lovely family, even if it was oddly settled by Weyr standards. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Oh, he’ll be with Y’suf,” said S’bastien. “That’s been hilarious. You haven’t noticed?”

“I know Y’suf,” Nile said. The Harper had been the only other candidate – or not candidate, but new rider, anyway – at the Hatching as old as she was. They’d bonded over that immediately, and over him not knowing much about Weyr life, and suddenly having to take up the mantle of brown rider. She’d been able to answer his questions. “Is he becoming friends with the Weyrleader?”

“If that’s what we’re calling it these days,” said S’bastien. His eldest son giggled. “I haven’t seen N’colo that thunderstruck since – well, never, since he came here from High Reaches, though I presume that’s how he looked when he first laid eyes on Genoth. It’s all Y’suf this, and Y’suf that, and won’t it be nice to have a Harper in the Weyr. I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.”

“So N’colo is…the sort who’s friends with green riders?” Nile asked carefully. That wasn’t usual in bronze riders, and still less in a Weyrleader. If he was the Weyrleader. She’d heard several other riders refer to S’bastien as the Weyrleader, but then S’bastien hadn’t said anything now, and – it was very confusing, that was all.

“He likes men,” S’bastien said, baldly. “He was Weyrmates with G’frey –” Nile recognised the name as belonging to a blue rider “– for quite a while. I don’t know he’s ever actually spent time with any of our green riders. But he’s only had eyes for Y’suf, since he showed up.”

“That’s…not how it goes at Benden,” Nile couldn’t help saying.

S’bastien rolled his eyes. “Oh, so I hear. Don’t believe everything they’ve taught you about who rides which dragons. My father was a green rider. He never had eyes for anybody except my mother.”

“My father was a bronze rider,” Nile offered. “He died in a training accident, when I was eleven. He and my mother had my younger brother, as well. He’s a blue rider now.”

“I remember that accident,” S’bastien said. “Not that I was there, but the stories about it. Terrible thing, when Thread isn’t even falling. My condolences.”

“Thank you,” Nile said. Then Jeanpierre interrupted with a question about how big Linoth was going to get, would it be as big as Scythiath and Ngoth or even bigger, and the rest of the conversation was lighter.

“Nile,” S’bastien said when she got up to leave. “I don’t know if Andromache mentioned it, but she thinks Linoth will be ready for you to start coming to our leaders’ meetings, in a week or two. Don’t be a stranger until then, eh? You’re going to be good for the Weyr.”

“Come and have lunch with us again!” Bastiano said enthusastically. “You’re the _nicest_ queen rider.”

“I’ll try,” Nile said, and meant it.

*

After that it was back to helping butcher herdbeasts. The hatchling dragons ate enormous quantities, and weren’t big enough yet, not even Linoth or the two bronze hatchlings, to kill and eat entire beasts. Nile had helped with this work at Benden, so at least she knew what she was doing. Y’suf had had a much harder time of it at the start; he was the third son of the Lord of Keroon Hold, it turned out, so even though there were plenty of herdbeasts in Keroon, he hadn’t had to butcher them.

“And you will be surprised to hear it doesn’t come up that often in the Harper Hall, either,” he’d said to Nile. But he’d squared his shoulders and got right into it, unflinching. Two of the other Hold-raised new riders had thrown up, the first day. Nile admired that.

He greeted her with a smile. “Nile! How is Linoth today?”

“The same as Tunith, I bet,” Nile said. “Eating her own bodyweight. Itchy. Sleeping when she isn’t one of those things.”

“And yet we love them,” Y’suf said, the same dopey smile on his face that they all shared as new riders, speaking of their dragons. “So very strange.”

“I hear you had lunch with N’colo,” Nile said, picking up her boning knife. “How was that?”

“Oh, very pleasant.” Y’suf was flensing out tendons; full-grown dragons could eat beasts skin and bone and all. The hatchlings’ stomachs were a little more delicate. “At any moment now I expect he will remember that he is Weyrleader – or I think so, everybody seems a little unclear on that – and has other things to do, but he has been very kind and answered all my questions. I know you have too, but there seem to be some differences between how they did things at Benden, and how things are done at Ista.”

“I’m only just starting to realise how much,” Nile said, feeling the prickly feeling of relief in her eyeballs again; she had to breathe in and out to keep her hands steady. “It’s – it’s good. I’m glad I’m here. I’m _glad_.”

Her voice trembled. Y’suf was the only one close enough to hear it; he eyed her kindly. “I…may have mentioned to N’colo that you were…that you had concerns. I hope you don’t mind. He is, truly, very kind, and it worried him that he had not spoken two words to you, since the Hatching.”

“Is that why Andromache turned up at my weyr this morning?”

“I don’t know. I would not be surprised.”

Nile barked out a short laugh. “Harpers.”

“Once a Harper, always a Harper,” Y’suf agreed. “But in this mostly your friend.”

“Thank you,” Nile said, quietly, meaning it. Y’suf smiled, and said nothing for a little while.

“As _your_ friend,” Nile said, a while later, “I should tell you that S’bastien was telling me today that N’colo had a weyrmate who was a blue rider, for a while.”

Y’suf nearly sliced his own thumb off; Nile felt a little guilty about that, but not very. “Oh?”

“I think a lot of the things I told you that you were asking, about how people – what different riders do, and who they have relationships with. They’re not the same here.”

“Yes, I’d started to gather that.” Y’suf coughed. “But, ah, that N’colo hadn’t mentioned.”

“Uh, the things about our dragons when they’re young and what we’re _not_ supposed to do? Pretty sure that’s still the same.”

“And…how long does that last?”

“A year or two. Longer for the bigger dragons.”

Y’suf looked very glum. Nile couldn’t help laughing. “When do we have time right now to do anything like that?”

“A good point,” Y’suf agreed, scraping a pile of tendons and other scraps into a bucket. “I will keep it in mind. But I’m sure N’colo is just being friendly.” He winked. “Or making sure to keep an eye on the Harper gifted unexpectedly to his Weyr.”

“I couldn’t say.” Nile took a deep breath. “Y’suf, since you are friends, could you…could you introduce me to him?”

“You’ve met, I thought.”

“I’ve been hiding from him,” she said. “You know that. That’s why you talked to him and he talked to Andromache and – I’d feel better if you were there.”

“Yes,” Y’suf said at once. “Anything you need. But, I promise, you have nothing to fear.”

“People keep making me all sorts of promises today. I wonder why.”

“Oh? What did Andromache promise you?”

Nile turned this over, a warm glow in her chest, the kind you got from a delicious secret. “That I was safe here. And…”

“And?”

“Nothing,” said Nile. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Ah, a secret,” Y’suf said with glee. “I’m a Harper. I’m very good with secrets.”

“You’ll have this one when I’m ready and _not_ before,” Nile said, still overflowing with it, with everything that had happened today, with the way the cliff she had been rushing towards had turned into smooth ground. It felt almost like the moment of Impression all over again; the dawning, absolute belief that she was safe, that she was loved, that she was known.

“I’m holding you to that,” said Y’suf, and Nile laughed, and went to wash her hands before they fed their dragons.

**Author's Note:**

> for everybody on the first fic who went "oh man I love Pern but the CONSENT ISSUES" and made me go "how WOULD that play out for baby lesbian Nile when she Impresses a queen?"


End file.
